


Red Carpet Blues

by willgrahamchops



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Crying, Depression, Dom/sub, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-01
Updated: 2011-12-01
Packaged: 2017-10-26 17:56:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/286241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/willgrahamchops/pseuds/willgrahamchops
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The post-concert depression thing runs both ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red Carpet Blues

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Kind of fucked up; poorly handled depression, possibly triggery.

Sometimes, when Gerard is on stage, he thinks he might be an egomaniac. When he gets off stage, he doesn’t.

When it’s over, when the lights go out and a select few fans bawl their eyes out because they feel like this was the perfect experience, that nothing in their lives will ever top this -- Gerard knows because they’ve told him, cried on his shoulder on a few occasions -- Gerard feels like the lowest piece of shit on the planet. Sometimes he thinks that this might be a problem, but most of the time he just wants to die.

“Dude, are you okay?” Frank asked the first time he found Gerard curled up in his bunk, trying to will himself out of existence.

Gerard didn’t answer and eventually Frank left, patting him awkwardly on the head.

Ray tried to help too, though he didn’t really know what to do with himself. He lifted Gerard into his lap once and let him cry and wipe snot on his Thursday shirt, but couldn’t get Gerard to say a word. Gerard just couldn’t, honestly. He was miserable and he couldn’t do anything about it.

Ray left, too, and though Gerard wished he would stay, he couldn’t find the words to ask.

This is neither the first nor the last time it will happen, and Gerard is seriously considering walking out the bus door and into the street. He’s curled in on himself, breathing through his mouth because his sinuses are clogged from crying, when Mikey opens the curtain.

He doesn’t say anything at first, but he sits down at the foot of the bed and rests a hand on Gerard’s thigh.

Nobody talks about Mikey’s and Gerard’s relationship, not even Mikey and Gerard. Similarly, Mikey never mentions Gerard’s poorly-timed bouts of depression, which is why this is such a surprise.

Gerard relaxes just a little bit to show Mikey that his efforts are appreciated, suppressing a confused glance in his direction. Breathe, he tells himself. Mikey knows what’s good for him.

Maybe Mikey misinterprets this gesture or maybe he interprets it too well, because he removes his hand and looks away. Gerard frowns. He was appreciating the attention. He tries to squirm back toward his brother’s touch without making it obvious, but that’s just not going to happen. Mikey stands up, just out of his reach. Gerard whimpers miserably, collapsing back onto the bed.

Mikey stares at him for a long moment, taking in his disheveled hair and the eyeliner smeared across his face. Gerard is a wreck and he knows it.

“This has been going on for too long,” Mikey says.

Gerard doesn’t know what to say, but he curls in on himself. He wishes his brother would sit down again.

“Are you going to fucking hurt yourself over this?” Mikey asks. His face is carefully neutral. “Do I need to call Brian or are you doing this for attention?”

“Don’t call--” Gerard chokes. His throat is scratchy from all the screaming he did on stage tonight. He’s too fucking sober for this.

“Two options,” says Mikey. Gerard just shakes his head helplessly.

“You’re fucking pathetic.”

For a moment, Gerard is unconvinced of his own sanity: Mikey would never say something like that, not to him. Not when he’s like this. His brother maintains eye contact and doesn’t take it back.

“You’re fucking pathetic,” he repeats, expressionless, hands at his sides. It is the most intimidating Gerard has ever seen him.

Gerard can’t do much but cough in response.

Mikey doesn’t seem to like this; his expression sours and he grits his teeth. “Gerard,” and he leans forward and, to Gerard’s surprise, grabs him by the hair and wrenches him into a sitting position. Gerard whines and twists away, but Mikey won’t let go. “Look at me,” he says instead, and Gerard looks at him with some effort. He can’t really see through the makeup and tears and other shit in his eyes, but he can tell without looking that Mikey isn’t angry. Which doesn’t make any sense because Mikey would never do this if he wasn’t; hell, Mikey would never do this--

“You’re a worthless piece of shit,” Mikey spits. He doesn’t relinquish his grip in Gerard’s matted hair, tightens it if anything. “Pull yourself together.”

Gerard is crying again, though he can’t remember when he stopped or when he started, and he squeezes his eyes shut against the onslaught. He doesn’t understand anything anymore and all he really wants to do is pass into some sort of coma and never wake up, anything as long as he doesn’t have to deal with this unidentifiable pain welling up in the pit of his stomach. Gerard thinks he might throw up. He tries and fails to explain this.

Mikey wrenches his head up when Gerard tries to let it sink again. “I want you to say it,” he hisses inches from Gerard’s face. Gerard opens his eyes but he can’t seem to speak. “Tell me how pathetic you are, Gee,” Mikey says.

Gerard doesn’t understand why his brother is doing this to him but he fucking hates it; he wishes Mikey would just leave him alone and let him wallow in self-pity. Gerard is on his knees on the bed at this point, too high up for comfort, and he’s about even with Mikey’s chest. Mikey pulls his hair every time he tries to sit back on his haunches, forcing him to keep his back straight and his head tipped back.

“C-can’t,” Gerard chokes. He’s honestly amazed that he has found his voice again, but it’s no use because he could never say the things Mikey is asking of him.

“Yes you can, Gerard.” His tone is even, completely devoid of inflection. “Do it and I’ll let go of you.”

He shakes his head and sobs. His jaw aches from gritting his teeth.

“Do it, or I’m telling Brian to hire another band therapist.”

He doesn’t really understand why this is happening to him but he does know that he can’t endure another second of Mikey looking at him like that, completely calm while Gerard shakes uncontrollably. He draws together every ounce of strength in his body and calls his voice from somewhere deep inside because if this is what Mikey wants, he can have it. It’s how things work between them.

“I-I’m pathetic,” Gerard whispers.

Mikey is on him in a flash, pinning him to the bed and resting his weight on his hips, one hand braced on Gerard’s chest and the other cupping his face. They stare at each other for a moment.

“Say it again.”

Gerard sobs and tries to push Mikey off, but his muscles feel empty, his anger and self-loathing slowly draining away with his strength.

“I’m fucking pathetic,” Gerard says, barely coherent through his tears.

Mikey digs his nails into Gerard’s chest. “Again.”

“Mikey please,” Gerard tries to say, but Mikey grabs him by the hair and slams his head against the mattress, hard enough to get the point across.  
“I’m fucking pathetic.”

“Like you mean it,” Mikey says.

“I’m fucking pathetic.”

Mikey slides down his body until their foreheads are pressed together, his warm breath mingling with Gerard’s. “Now I want you to believe it.”

“I’m f-fucking -- why?” Gerard moans.

Mikey slaps him across the face. Gerard’s nervous system basically shuts up as it tries to comprehend the sensation, and he momentarily forgets to cry.

“Please stop,” he whispers when he can speak again.

“Say it.”

“I’m fucking pathetic!”

When he opens his eyes Mikey is smiling, cradling his face like he’s breakable. Maybe he is; Gerard isn’t sure. He certainly feels that way right now, and the shock is all that’s keeping him together.

“Good,” Mikey says. “Now open your mouth.”

Gerard doesn’t, and Mikey doesn’t wait or try to further coax him. Instead he pinches Gerard’s nose, making breathing even harder than it was already, and when Gerard opens his mouth to gasp for air, Mikey seals their lips together and shoves his tongue down Gerard’s throat.

He still can’t breathe.

When Mikey pulls away Gerard can’t close his mouth. “Now tell me you love me,” Mikey says.

“I love you,” Gerard replies reflexively. He’s surprised to find that he means it maybe just a little bit more than he did the last time they kissed (Mikey drunk and Gerard licking the whiskey out of his mouth, matching smiles pressed together.) Mikey rolls off him and sits on the edge of the bed, regarding him with cautious approval.

“I never want you to do this again,” Mikey says, and Gerard nods complacently.

He presses his palm to Gerard’s abdomen before he leaves, which is probably supposed to be a comforting gesture in that weird, Mikey sort of way.

When Gerard wakes up he has a hard time convincing himself that it ever happened, but he sits on the couch after their next show, hand on Mikey’s thigh, and watches Ray beat Epic Mickey for the second time.

“I love you,” he whispers before his brother retires to his bunk. Mikey doesn’t answer, and, that night, Gerard doesn’t cry.


End file.
